


it gets colder and colder as the sun goes down

by aylamwrites



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Song Based, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aylamwrites/pseuds/aylamwrites
Summary: Ethan and Maeve meet up years after their breakup, and it's not what they expect it to be.Part two to "fight or flight?"
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart), Ethan Ramsey/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	it gets colder and colder as the sun goes down

It must’ve been an act of god, or kismet.

Frankly, the pair of once-lovers would have never in a blue moon expected to see each other here. Here in this place full of the bright luminescence of a cloudless summer’s day and giggling children who weaved through different booths as cheerful carnival music played overhead, and the odd yet satisfying smell of fried carbs and sugar filling their nostrils.

It was the last place on Earth they would have expected to see the other.

The moment their eyes met, after all this time, a wordless battle took place, in which blazing choler and glacial resentment clashed between their broken hearts.

***

Ethan was perched against a metal railing waiting for Dr. Mirani and Dr. Williams to venture back with their patient, Joseph, and his parents, Noah and Riley. The group had extended an invitation for him to come join them on the merry-go-round as well, but Ethan had declined.

He was a grown man. Carousels were for children. Plus, he needed the ounce of solitude.

He watched as the children played carnival games across the way. Some laughed as they threw rings onto glass bottles or fished for rubber ducks, enjoying the rigged games they’d never win specifically made by the callous adults, yet not caring if they won or lost.

Nieve children had the privilege of enjoying the adventure. These games weren’t meant to be won; just like adulthood was a messy game full of gray areas.

When he grew bored of the children he surveyed a growing line. Ethan noted a contrasting couple together in the line., Aa woman with black hair, though the golden hour sun gave the stranger chestnut highlights. Then the man with golden locks, standing not much taller than her. They looked about the same age.

They looked in love. He could see the magnetic force between the two. They held eye contact, their hands were interlocked, smiling at each other.

He shook his head, averting his eyes from the sight, feeling as if he were intruding in a private moment. His eyes wandered onto an unoccupied bench, Ethan examined it, tracing the piece of furniture over and over again with his eyes, noticing how the sun’s waning light falling onto the dirt covered seat like a microscope, exposing the chips in it’s paint and the sharpie writing on top of it. All of a sudden, the loud music of the childrens ride started to play. He sent his gaze up, watching the flashing selection of lights, as the children giggled in delight as the gears began the circuits of splendor, the arrangement of unrealistic colored horses they sat on beginning to plunge forward and onward, the flashing selection of lights never letting themselves rest, even as the new set of stripling and wistful adults would climb onto the ride and the whole pattern of events would repeat.

A gust of shock hit him after he tore away from the carousel lights, turning to face the side of the waning sun, but instead falling face to face with a set of grey eyes. Suddenly, a cool fog surrounded his senses, freezing him in his place as a string of bitter resentment and aflamed sinfulness.

***

Maeve was waiting in line for funnel cakes. Her arms crossed over her chiffon floral blouse as she inhaled the delicious aroma of chocolate syrup and fried dough that signified her youth. The smoke wafting from the nearby teens lighting up bringing her into the cigar-scented nostalgia of her early twenties.

The borough of Brooklyn was her first real home; the place she had retreated to after her childhood home became an unwelcome settlement. She spent almost a decade in this city, bouncing around town, living paycheck to paycheck while she juggled university and medical school. All while paying the hiked up New York City rent for her broken down apartment and loving every minute of it. Brooklyn set her free - gave her a freedom she never knew and needed all the same.

To her, it didn’t matter how the memories were doused in struggle; she still appreciated the graffiti on every surface and the buzzing city and the crusty abode she called home. Because Brooklyn brought her to college and college led her to med school and med school took her to Boston and Boston brought her to…

A chill ran up her spine.

“Maeve?”

“Hm?” She looked over to the man standing next to her, the one she was lucky enough to call her boyfriend. His golden brows were furrowed, his plump pink lips pulled into a concerned frown. He bit the right side of his bottom lip, as he always did when he worried about her.

“You ok?”

“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine.” She pulled her lips up in a forced smile, trying to reassure him that all was well. Knowing her, he took a slight step forward and rubbed his soft hands over her the bare length of her arm. She sighed, and he took it as his signal not to ask the deeper meaning.

“Alright.” He looked over his shoulder at the long line behind them. “I’m going to go use the bathroom.”

“Are you sure you want to use a porta potty?” Maeve chuckled.

“I’ll handle the stench-”

“Of weed and shit? Yeah. Have fun.” She pressed a gentle kiss on his clean shaven cheek, and watched as he retreated from the line into the crowd.

After another five minutes of waiting the line had barely moved any. She looked back over her shoulder for him, knowing full well he couldn’t possibly be back yet. And he wasn’t. Though Maeve could swear that her eyes had caught onto a familiar sight, instead of doing a double take she dismissed her suspicions, pulling out her grey phone from her pocket to pass the lonely time. Her thumb scrolled through her pictagram page, running over the textured cracked screen of the device waiting for time to pass. With every passing minute, a tingling feeling burnt through the back of her floral blouse with more furor. Again, she looked back to see if it were Ross.

All she saw was the mile long line behind her.

She sighed, letting the ghost go.

Finally, it had gotten to her turn. She ordered two cakes, hers with powdered sugar and cinnamon, and one for Ross with caramel. She held the two flimsy paper plates in her hands, carefully sauntering out of the line and moving towards the little sitting area a couple of yards away.

That’s when she saw him.

Standing a mere seven feet across from her, his ocean eyes bluer and wider than the waves crashing behind him, and staring into her….

She froze in place, the only thing moving were the edges of the plates with the wind.

Move. Move. Move; Her internal siren commanded.

But she was stuck to that patch of grass. She blinked once, twice, a third time just to make sure it really was him.

He was the one to say the first word.

“Hey.”

***

Gazing at her now all he could do was conjure up the Maeve she used to be. The one he had the pleasure of knowing.

> It was like his brain was stuttering. Every ounce of his body went into a shocked pause, while the thoughts in his head tried to catch up.

> When Maeve stepped out of the door, charcoal tears running down her cheeks with a simple cardigan sweater on and a small duffle bag of belongings, all that he said was a single hushed whisper, one last beg to fight for him.

> “Please don’t leave me, Maeve.”

> After she was gone came the shock-the frozen notions of groundbreaking emotions. No words were said, no angry mutters and breakages of furniture; only silent tears of dismay and rue, and the constant ghostly feeling that his hands were shattering something so delicate. Love.

To this day he doesn’t remember why he did it; why he would allow himself to have an affair. He remembers Donahue’s. And lots of drinks. And then waking up with a big mess scattered across the house. His internal panic forced him to push the night into the furthest corner of his mind and forget, as he put back the pieces of their homely puzzle, just to the way they were.

All that replayed in his mind since the night of the storm was Maeve. All her delicate words and sentiments, how shattered and dull her grey eyes looked as she walked out the door.

He tried his hardest in that moment to figure out what to say, how to get her back, how to reconcile.

But nothing useful came out.

Just as it was now, with her standing in front of him.

He watched her plaster on a poker face after he said the first word; he knew it was her poker face. He still knew her little details of her personality and she hadn’t fundamentally changed.

“Hi.” she responded just as breathless as he felt.

He said the first sentence that he could muster; “I never thought I’d see you here.” He ended it with a light chuckle.

The man standing in front of her was different yet all the while similar to the Ethan she knew. His hair was a bit shorter, thinner even. He didn’t have a beard, instead a stubble which had more greys than browns. His forehead seemed to have more stress lines, his eyes had baggier circles and there were more wrinkles. Through, the eye bags were less noticeable with the glasses he was wearing.

The only thing that was exactly the same was the way he was gazing at her, his azure eyes showing multiple emotions, pupils dilated and soft. They were the eyes she would forgive over and over again, the ones that made her fall in love…

His sight felt like a malignancy attached right to her airway, blocking any oxygen from flowing into her lungs, making her breath catch in her throat, stuck and unable to come up.

Intern orientation. Miami. The opera. When she begged him to stay in Edenbrook. Their first time together. The attack. The snow storm. Their first big fight. Their first makeup. When she told him loving him hurt. When he gave her the advil for her headache. When he pretended he hadn’t cheated. When she left.

Each time, the same eyes started at her. Even now.

The old tapes played in her mind, burning her composure and newly formed self, burning her down into a vulnerable piece, the smoke of the nostalgic happiness they once experienced clouded her visions, preventing her to go into their fight or flight instinct.

_Shouldn’t she run?_

_Isn’t that what she does?_

A tinge of pink coated the apples of her cheeks as she remembered why she was staying put.

Maeve threw on her best neutral expression as she responded, “Hi.” It felt like she was straining all of her facial muscles. She knew the second her tongue formed the word that his diagnostic instincts would know it was a fake attempt at sincerity. The next words that came out of his mouth infuriated her, “I never thought I’d see you here.” 

Maeve grit her teeth, acknowledging with the same;

“I’d never thought I’d meet _you_ here.”

“I’m here because of a patient.” He responded with a calm demeanor. “You?”

“I live here, in Brooklyn.”

“Oh. Really?” He mused.

A heavy silence dwelled over them, thick with uneasy tension. Their unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around the whole scene, heaven forbidding that they met. A sweat prickeled on her psalms, which might have come from the fact there were too hot plates on each of them, or that the anxiety of the situation was hitting her.

Ethan broke their hiatus once more, “It’s been awhile…how have you been?”

Maeve shifted awkwardly in her spot, rolling her shoulders back and straightening her posture. “Great. It’s uh- it’s been good. I’ve been good. You?”

He gave her a ghost of a smile, “As well as I can be.”

“So you’re doing concierge medicine now?” she asked.

He shut her suggestion down, “Dear, God, no. A pediatric cancer and KAT6A patient lives here, and the diagnostics team is consulting him here, since his oncologist is here. He isn’t doing so well; we’re only at the carnival because the poor kid deserves to have some fun through the treatments…” Ethan trailed, quickly turning to change the subject. “Where are you practicing?”

“Brookdale Non-profit Medical Center.”

“You’ve been tight on money, I heard.”

“At least we’re doing better than Edenbrook.” Maeve quipped in response.

Another silence fell over them, yet once again Ethan fight’s past it..

“Take a walk with me?”

She gaped at him with folded brows and total bewilderment. 

“We.. Could talk. “ Ethan suggested, meekly. “About everything. There’s some things I’ve been meaning to say.” He quickly added.

Maeve let out a weary sigh, signalling her passive deterioration. “I don’t think we should.”

“Please, Maeve. Just this once, can you please listen?”

The single sentence sent a chill down Maeve’s spine, bringing her back to the night of the storm, his words being the same as they were that god awful night.

> “God, Maeve! Just this one, can you just listen to me?” his words were harsh and warranted.

> Maeve stood in front of the large mirror which stood in their bedroom corridor, weaving her hand through her hair and braiding her dark chocolate strands into a simple dutch braid down the middle. Ethan was stopped in his tracks, eyes pleading, brows raised and ears red.

> Moments prior she relayed that she picked up a 24 hour night shift last minute. A stampede of questions fell from his lips, which came out sounding like accusations, which in all honesty, they were. Jabs were thrown back and forth; Ethan criticizing her work ethic and asking her to stay, Maeve refusing to fight tonight. 

> Every time they spend more than 15 minutes together they’re fighting.

> Another day brought another fight. They tried, gosh, they tried to go back to normal, to communicate and to be happy; yet every time they started time they started to get a little better another gust of the empest of their spiraling relationship would hit them; each time making it harder and harder for the two to bond together once again. At this point, they were just delaying the inevitable.

> And Maeve was tired of fighting.

> “No. I can’t because I start a shift in 10 minutes and I really do not want to have to explain why I was late.”

> “Why are you running?”  
> “Huh?”

> “Why are you so adamant on pulling away from me?! Why are you finding every opportunity to leave?”

> “That’s funny coming from a man who went to the fucking amazons to run away from me.”

> “not this again-”

> She shoved right past him and out the door, “I have to go to work.”

They say that green is the herculean color since it signals that the start of a new season after the passing of the storm filled wintery days, and that was exactly what Ross’s eyes reminded her of. A new, blossoming beginning. She let out a faint relieved exhale as she saw the figure behind Ethan approach them. She was finally able to flee from Ethan. But this time her escape plan came with a sweeter sense of relief.

“Maeve!” Ross called out, waving at her. Ethan raised a brow in confusion, looking over his shoulder to see the man.

Oh. He realized. Oh.

They were the couple from the line.

Ross joined her side, looking between her and Ethan. Maeve cleared her throat, pointing her head towards Ethan.

“This is my boyfriend, Ross. Ross, Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

Ethan’s eyes went wide. It had only been two years since she abandoned him and she already has a boyfriend? Ethan’s mind reeled with all the possibilities - of how long she’s known the man, when they met, and he let himself trot down the road that ruined them. If he could do it, was she capable of forging a bond while they were meant to be a forever… 

“Pleasure” Ethan reluctantly shook his outstretched hand. He could see the protective side look Ross was giving Maeve, but he didn’t show any emotion as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.” He responded, his voice sounding genuine, although what he had heard was probably not the best of Ethan

As the two most important men in her life joined, an odd unsettling question posed itself.

But, she took a deep breath and swallowed it whole.

As the men continued their tense chit chat, the sun shone unobstructed on them and an epiphany hit Maeve.

She realized that it was obvious, deep down in both Ethan and Maeve’s souls that they were never meant to be.Their love was too toxic, too powered from hurt and trauma to ever make it through the long run. It was like a rope, weathered and worn, just barely holding on as the storm passed.

But more importantly, she realized…

Ross was her home. Ross had luscious curls that her fingers would comb through as she stared into his green eyes, the two of them pooled over his bed, with intertwined bodies, always connected from one part or the other. Ross would kiss her forehead and would hold her as she slept. Ross would take her out to carnivals and eat fried foods with her. Ross would do anything for her. Ross wanted whatever she wanted, he respected her and her headspace. In Ross’s head she was the first priority. Then work. Then everything else. And vise versa.

He feels like home.

When she looked at him, her heart felt excitement and warmth. She felt at home.

She didn’t feel that way when she looked at Ethan. When she looked at Ethan she felt disappointment and nostalgia.

> “God damn it, Maeve!” Ethan slammed his palm onto the counter, causing a shuddering echo to pulse through the apartment. “Do you even love me anymore?”

> She let out a sigh, full of exhaustion and defeat, letting go of her shoe laces and looking at him from the ottoman she was sitting at.

> “It’s not about love, Ethan…”

> He cut her off, forcibly demanding, “Tell me, Maeve.”

> “I love you so much that it hurts.”

> His brows furrowed. “Then…” Ethan’s tone went soft as he declared, “we can work on this. We can work on ourselves. We can fix this.”

> A few quiet seconds passed before she responded. Soft and quiet, as if she was explaining the notion only to herself. “…I said I love you so much that it hurts.”

> His blue eyes held so much confusion.

> “I love you so much it hurts.” She tried again, hoping his erudite self could pick up on the subtext.

> Picking up her hospital bag, she walked up to where he stood on the other side of the room and gazed into the eyes she adored more than anything.

> “It hurts,” she whispered. “It hurts to love you.”

The sun had finally set into the earth, only a miniscule streak of luminescence still remaining. The only light that surrounded the park grounds were those from the arcade stalls and rides, and the newly turned on street lights. The wind had started to pick up, sending gusts of cool chills around them, but Ross’s arm around her waist kept her warmed, whilst Ethan stood stark and stoic, covered by the dark shadows.

“Ready to go?” Ross asked with a sigh. Maeve nodded in response, handing one of the plates to him and then looking at Ethan.

“It was nice to see you again.” He stated in slow articulation, eyeing the hand on her waist for a moment, then giving her a silent nod in acknowledgment.

With a single nod in acknowledgment and another one of her ghost-like smiles, she took her new lovers hand, and flew;

Out of the presence of her past.


End file.
